


Forged in Fire

by mithrel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Multi, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-27
Updated: 2009-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his first battle, Merlin is traumatised.  Arthur helps him out, but this creates more problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forged in Fire

Clinging to his saddlehorn as he rode through the field, Merlin sent another fireball at the oncoming troops.

The situation with Mercia had degenerated recently, the agreements they’d made with Uther no longer valid under Arthur’s leadership, and now it was all-out war. Arthur had led his knights into battle, and Merlin had gone with him.

His conscious mind was curled up shrieking in a corner; he was running on instinct alone.

This wasn’t the first time he had killed with magic, or even the first time he’d been into battle, but bandits and highly-trained knights were two different animals entirely. The former could be scared off; the latter had to be fought, tooth and nail.

A swordsman charged at Arthur and the young King ran him through. Merlin blasted away a man coming at him with an axe, attempting to take out their sorcerer.

Ever since the battle had started, Merlin had been busy guarding Arthur’s back, and his own, and, when there was a lull in the wave of enemies attempting to slay the King, attacking the rest of the Mercian army.

Arthur wheeled about and came around for another pass, surrounded by his knights and his sorcerer.

The scene was straight out of a nightmare: pike- and spearmen goring each other, hails of arrows and crossbow quarrels raining down on both sides, the shrieks of the wounded and dying, the clash of metal against metal…

But finally Arthur’s side prevailed. The remainder of the Mercian army threw down their arms, and Camelot was victorious.

Merlin scrambled down from his horse and ran. He didn’t know where he was going, only knew that he had to get _away,_ away from the stench of blood and entrails, the sight of bodies strewn on the ground.

He stumbled, tears streaming down his face, wishing he was back in Camelot and he’d never heard of Mercia.

He somehow ended up back at the camp, and was violently sick in the bushes.

He straightened up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and turned to see Arthur standing in the clearing behind him.

“Arthur!” He attempted to compose himself, scrubbing his face to rid it of tearstains.

“Are you alright?” Arthur came over to him and put a hand on his arm. Merlin flinched away.

“I’m fine!” he insisted, not wanting to appear weak in front of Arthur.

Arthur smiled sadly. “No, you’re not. Of course you’re not. How could you be?”

“I–”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Merlin,” Arthur continued. “Everyone reacts that way the first time.”

“Even you?” Merlin demanded.

Arthur’s smile turned self-deprecating. “Even me.”

Merlin gaped at him.

“My father was _not_ happy. He said I had to be strong, be a _leader._ ” Arthur snorted, then sighed. “It never gets any easier, but you do get used to it, at least enough that you can control yourself.

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Merlin said fervently.

“Hopefully you won’t have to,” Arthur replied. “I’m going to go supervise the cleanup. Get some rest.”

As Arthur left, Merlin scoffed. Rest? He doubted he could ever sleep again.

***

Arthur lay in his tent, trying to sleep. He couldn’t.

Merlin was in the same tent, on the theory that a sorcerer would best be able to defend him from an assassin.

And he was miserable.

Arthur remembered how he’d reacted after his first battle. It was ridiculous for Merlin to pretend that nothing was wrong, especially when Arthur could clearly hear him crying, despite his attempts to stifle it. But then, Merlin always had been stubborn.

Finally he rolled over and confronted him. “Are you alright?”

There was a sniff from nearby. “I’m keeping you awake, sorry.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Merlin, there’s nothing to apologise for!”

“Sorry,” Merlin repeated.

“Look, it’s like I told you. _Everyone_ reacts this way at first! You’ve never been in battle before; of course you’d fall apart.”

“I didn’t!” Merlin protested.

“You did. I saw you.”

Silence for a moment then, “It’s horrible,” Merlin murmured.

Arthur sighed. “I know. War is hell.”

“But you’ve been trained for it–”

“Just because I trained for it doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

“The tournaments–“

“That’s different,” Arthur cut him off. “People don’t die in tournaments, not unless something goes horribly wrong.” He paused. “I hate killing.”

“Me too.”

Arthur looked over at Merlin. He was only an indistinct shape in the dim light. “You should rest.”

“I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see–” his voice faded into silence.

Arthur got up, and moved over to Merlin’s bedroll. He slipped in next to him.

“What are you doing?” Merlin demanded.

“Shhh,” Arthur replied, and kissed him.

Merlin froze, then kissed him back, desperately.

This wasn’t about love, or even lust. It was about comfort, about confirming that you were still alive, about making contact with another human being. Arthur told himself he was only doing what he’d do for anyone else traumatised by their first battle.

Merlin was shaking, but as Arthur held him and stroked his cheeks his shaking slowly abated. Arthur buried his face in the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent, then mouthed at his shoulder. Merlin whimpered.

Arthur removed Merlin’s nightshirt, a snide voice in his head telling him that he didn’t need to do that, that he just wanted to see more of Merlin’s skin. He ignored it.

He ran his hand up Merlin’s spine, beginning at the small of his back and ending at the base of his skull.

He kissed him again, softly, and Merlin opened to him. He spent a few moments exploring Merlin’s mouth before he moved to kiss down his neck, running his tongue over his collarbone, laving at the hollow.

He latched onto a nipple, worrying it with his teeth.

Merlin gasped, _“Arthur,”_ and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

He took hold of Merlin’s arse and squeezed, through the thin hose he wore, and Merlin bucked into him.

He peeled the hose off him, slowly and took Merlin’s cock in his hand.

Merlin groaned and his hands clawed at Arthur’s back.

He was beautiful, head thrown back, eyes tight shut, hair mussed, and Arthur was tempted to keep going, to get him off that way.

But this was the only opportunity he’d ever have to do this, and he intended to make the most of it.

He wriggled his way down Merlin’s body, and took him in his mouth.

Merlin keened, and his hips thrust up.

Arthur pushed him down again.

He focussed all his attention on his task, massaging the vein on the underside, pulling back to mouth at the head, running his tongue over the slit.

Merlin was gasping and writhing underneath him, and when Arthur sneaked a hand down behind his balls, he let out a stuttering groan and came down his throat.

Arthur moved up to lie beside Merlin and Merlin kissed him.

He wasn’t expecting Merlin to reciprocate–he was perfectly capable of taking care of his own arousal later, once Merlin was asleep.

So when Merlin pushed his hose down, he was totally unprepared.

He grabbed his wrist. “You don’t have to–”

Merlin nodded. “I know.”

When Merlin touched him, Arthur threw his head back and closed his eyes. The feel of Merlin’s hand on him was better than he’d imagined, and although he tried to last, it only took a few slow pulls before he was coming, with a strangled, “Fuck, _Merlin!_ ”

He lay back, attempting to catch his breath. Merlin kissed him softly and whispered, “Thank you.”

_**He’s** thanking **me?**_ Arthur nodded and pulled away, ignoring the voice that urged him to stay, adjusted his clothes and went back to his own bedroll.

It was a long time before he fell asleep.

***

“Arthur.”

Arthur gazed out the window, ignoring him.

“ _Arthur!_ ” Merlin repeated.

Arthur started and looked guilty. “What?”

“What’s the _matter_ with you?” Arthur had been distracted ever since they’d got back to Camelot, gazing into the distance and occasionally sighing.

“Nothing!”

“Well, you have that meeting with Lord Aelfgar.”

Arthur stared at him for a moment, then swore. “That’s right! Thanks for reminding me!”

After he’d left Merlin stared at the door, wondering what was wrong with Arthur. He knew ruling Camelot was stressful, but he’d been handling it fine until recently.

He resolved to keep an eye on him.

***

 _Idiot!_ Arthur berated himself. _Pull yourself together, he’s getting suspicious!_

He _had_ to forget that night. At the time, he’d told himself that he was just trying to help Merlin, but the truth was he was being selfish–seizing a God-sent, unhoped-for opportunity.

He should have left well enough alone. Before, he’d been able to hide his feelings for Merlin, but now that he knew what it was like to be with him, he couldn’t think of anything else…

He growled in frustration, trying to will his traitorous heart to behave.

***

Merlin lay in bed, unable to sleep.

Arthur wasn’t the only one who’d been distracted since they got back.

Before, Merlin had never had these problems.

He cared about Arthur, would do anything to protect him, even to sacrificing his own life, but that was _all_. It was a long time since their insults actually had meant anything; now it was a tradition, a sort of in-joke between them, and Merlin enjoyed the banter. Arthur was his best friend, but he’d never wanted anything more than friendship before that night.

Now…

Now he was wondering if he might have been in love with Arthur without realising it.

He kept remembering the way Arthur had touched him, as if he’d break, the way he’d kissed him…

He groaned. _He was just trying to calm you down so you wouldn’t keep him awake! It didn’t mean anything!_

But he couldn’t get that night out of his mind…

He sighed, and gave in to the inevitable.

Gaius was asleep by now, but just to be sure, he cast a spell to keep any sounds from escaping.

He reached down to his cock, already half-erect, and started stroking it, remembering Arthur’s tongue in his mouth, and imagining Arthur’s hand instead.

He let out a low moan, and ran his other hand over his chest, toying with his nipples.

Arthur’s hand, stroking down his spine; Arthur’s lips stretched around his cock; Arthur’s eyes, squinched closed as he came; Arthur fucking him and, as long as he was imagining the impossible, Arthur underneath him, his legs wrapped around his waist as Merlin thrust into him…

He gasped out Arthur’s name as his release hit, then slumped to the bed, his depression returning. It was pointless. Arthur didn’t think of him like that. He never would.

***

“Damn diplomats and their lackeys to the lowest hells!” Arthur growled, as he opened the door to his room.

“Problem?” Merlin asked from where he sat in a chair by the fire.

Arthur wasn’t surprised to see him there. Merlin had his own chambers, but he claimed he’d spent so much time in Arthur’s rooms when he was serving him… _acting as his manservant_ …that he was used to being there.

“I just spend four hours in a meeting with the border estates, and _nothing_ got accomplished! I think I preferred the war!”

“You don’t,” Merlin replied. “You hate killing.”

Arthur sighed. “You’re right, I don’t.”

Merlin fidgeted. “Arthur, about that night…”

Arthur’s spine froze. They hadn’t mentioned it since they got back, and he’d been hoping this state of affairs would continue. “What about it?” he asked cautiously.

“Do you regret it?”

_“No!”_ he replied immediately, then, to cover his outburst, asked, “Why, do you?”

Merlin shook his head. “No.”

“Ah. Well, good.”

The silence stretched, full of something Arthur couldn’t define. He had the feeling they were on the brink of something monumental, something life-altering…

“Sire?”

He started, and glared at the page who had just entered. “ _What?!_ ”

The boy flinched. “S-sire, Lord Aelfgar requests that you meet with him again tomorrow.”

“I already told him I would!” Arthur snarled, and the page yelped and ran away.

“Damned _diplomats!_ ” he spat, giving the word the same inflection as _midden_.

Merlin snorted.

Arthur looked at him, but whatever mood had been present before the servant’s intrusion was irrevocably shattered.

***

_He doesn’t regret it…_

_Shut up!_ Merlin told himself. _Just because he doesn’t regret it, doesn’t mean he wants to do it again! He was helping you out, nothing else!_

He convinced himself he believed that.

***

_He doesn’t regret it…_

Arthur growled. _Just because it wasn’t a horrible experience for him doesn’t mean he’d want to repeat it! He isn’t attracted to you, and he_ certainly _isn’t in love with you, so stop wishing for something you can’t have!_

He sighed, wondering how he’d ever look at Merlin the same way again.

***

The next day Arthur stood at the window, gazing unseeingly at the courtyard below.

He pushed away from the window and glanced over at Merlin.

For one moment, the expression on Merlin’s face was completely open, before he averted his eyes. When he looked back, he looked the same as ever.

But Arthur had seen how he was looking at him–with naked longing and something akin to pain.

“Merlin?”

“What?” Merlin asked trying for nonchalant, but Arthur could see the way his shoulders were tense, his lips thinned.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Merlin fidgeted. “Like what?”

Arthur moved over to where Merlin was standing near the fireplace. Merlin backed away from him until he was against the wall.

“Like you…I don’t even know.”

They were standing close enough to touch now, and Merlin’s eyes held a pain that was all too familiar to Arthur. He hesitated, then seemed to make a decision.

When Merlin kissed him, Arthur pushed him back. “What are you doing?”

Merlin’s expression became wooden. “Nothing…I thought…I’m sorry.”

He tried to move past him, but Arthur didn’t let him. “Merlin.”

Merlin refused to look at him.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Merlin gaped at him. “What?”

Arthur turned away from him. “As long as I was sure nothing could happen I managed, but now…” he trailed off.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and reluctantly turned around. “If you don’t mean it, if you just want…”

“I do,” Merlin said softly. “I don’t just want to have sex again.”

Arthur still hesitated. “You’re absolutely sure…”

Merlin cut him off with a kiss, and Arthur decided to give in to the inevitable.


End file.
